By Richard Corliss Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009, TIME
Tonight, after a mere five decades in the doghouse, after some 50 movies as a star and 13 as a writer-director, Lewis, 82, is being allowed back onstage. He's getting an Oscar, and, wouldn't you know, it's the wrong one. The Motion Picture Academy is giving him the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award — an honor recognizing charity work, and given more frequently to producers than to actors. Lewis's commitment as a spokesman for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, notably in the 19-hour MDA telethon he fronts each Labor Day, has certainly earned him a hearty Hollywood thank-you. But it's a minor token, almost an insult, to one of the wildest, most imaginative comic talents in any medium and, without question, the definitive showbiz ego of the mid-20th century.
Lewis the solo movie star quickly found a comedy mentor: Frank Tashlin, whom Jer will surely thank tonight. A writer-director who had worked on some of the best wartime Warner Bros. animated shorts, Tashlin made his mark in feature films by turning such pliable stars as Bob Hope and Jayne Mansfield into, essentially, cartoon characters. Lewis, already rubberized, was the ideal clay for Tashlin to mold, stretch and cheerfully mutilate; he directed two Martin-and-Lewis comedies, six more just with Jer, Geisha Boy and Cinderfella being the ones fizziest with anarchic ideas.
On his own as a director, Lewis put on film some of the most complex comic constructions — The Ladies' Man's open, multi-story set, The Bellboy's plot-ignoring series of sight gags (with Jer as the unspeaking hotel employee) — since the early masterpieces of Buster Keaton. Where Lewis went wrong was in also trying to be Charlie Chaplin: laying on the ennobling sentiment, but with a trowel. What the movies lacked was an audience interlocutor; without a figure like Dean Martin, viewers could laugh at Jerry but not always root for him.
Jer, we sympathize; we admire; we're grateful. Your career has been a magnificent, traumatic ride, for you and the people who worked with you. And tonight, even if it's not the one you deserve, you finally got an Oscar. Hold that statuette with pride. But don't lick it.
http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1881163-2,00.html